Bad (Good?) Timing
by TacoPanda
Summary: A Dadvid fic! Thought I'd jump on the bandwagon with season 4 rolling up. These two have such an awesome dynamic, it's been so much fun writing them. I won't spoil too much, but be ready for some healing. This will be timed after season 3, but I'll be keeping an eye on season 4 and making edits if they fit. Rated T for mentions of mental illness and abuse and Max's filthy mouth.
1. Chapter 1

David had had a… rough day, to say the least. It's only been a month into the semester, and he already had a handful of troublemakers making his classroom their permanent lunchroom. Throwing trash, drawing on the whiteboard in permanent marker, writing profanities that David hadn't even _heard of _in their textbooks, and, of course, regular outbursts have caused him to become… pretty drained.

Honestly, it was even worse than Max and his infamous troop back at Camp, at least they were clever with their schemes. These kids, despite being several years _older_ than his former campers, weren't even creative. Another day, another crude drawing of genitalia to wipe off the board. Or a desk. Or erase from a book.

David sighs, drawing his eyes across the four students sitting in each corner of the room. He'll have to call their parents, which he never looked forward to. He writes himself a note and slips it into his back pocket, reminding himself for later. Those calls rarely ended well. He'll have to call sometime next week, for sure.

Checking the clock, his smile brightens.

"Okay kiddos, lunch detention's up. You've got three minutes to dump your trays. Jasmine, make sure you're _on time_, alright? I've got a fun lab planned!"

The curly-haired girl scoffs, dumping her full lunch tray into the tiny trash bin next to David's desk. His smile falters.

"Whatever, _Greenwood_. I'll be here."

"Um- okay then! Stay out of trouble, guys!" David waves meekly at the disgruntled students, and then stands up from his desk to pull out some of the lab equipment he'll be using for his demonstration today, placing them on the black lab table at the front of the room. It's simple, a lab involving burning different substances to create different colored flames, but as he gets out the materials, his mind wanders elsewhere.

He was worried, about a number of things. Camp has been on his mind for a few days, and with it came fond memories of his latest campers and, well, David swore up and down that he didn't play favorites, but Max specifically. He hoped he was getting on fine back at home, since the whole Parent's Day fiasco brought up a slew of red flags that had Gwen walking him through another lengthy crying session that evening. Come to think of it, he should send her a message to see how she's doing.

He smiles as the bell rings and the halls echo with footsteps again. He's heading up to Camp this weekend, anyway. Maybe a nice breather will do him some good and calm his worries. After all, Max's parents _had _picked him up, despite the kid vehemently betting on them _not _doing so, so they did care some, at least. He was probably fine, likely at his own school causing his own brand of creative mischief at this very moment.

As the first few kids file into the classroom, David smiles down at the materials and hands out safety goggles to the students. At least the inclusion of fire will keep everyone entertained for most of the period, although they're going to be pretty disappointed once he pulls out the connected assignment.

After a bit, the bell rings, and David beams at the full classroom.

"Alright everybody, I know you're excited it's Friday, so I have a particularly _hot _demonstration planned for today!"

TTTTTTTT

David walks through the camp gates with a little more skip in his step than usual, excited to take a little break from the monotony of grading papers and urban living. He breathes in deeply, almost trying to absorb the smell of the pines and the lake into his very bones.

"I really don't know how anyone _can't _enjoy this." He mutters to himself.

The mess hall comes into view first, but David walks past it to drop his bag off in the counselor's cabin. He unlocks the door and enters, pulling his bandana (a self-proclaimed necessity while camping) over his face to avoid the cloud of dust falling from the disturbed room.

He opens all the windows, clearing out the stagnant air.

_Gonna let that air out for a bit. I should probably check if any of our stores went rotten in the meantime._

David leaves the counselor's cabin, brushing dust off of himself, and fiddles with his keys, finding the one for the mess hall.

Except… he pulls on the door handle, finding it unlocked. He rolls his eyes and holds in a sigh.

_It's those homeless folks again. _He thinks, clipping his keys onto his belt. _I always hate kicking them out. I'll have to add 'replace locks' to the maintenance list._

David opens the door to the mess hall and steps in, pausing for a moment to hear any signs of intruders. He strains his ears against the rustling leaves outside, waiting for movement.

He takes a few more cautious steps forward, closing the door behind him with a barely audible _click_. Scanning the room, he does notice some open cabinets and used dishware through the serving window, so someone has _definitely_ been squatting here and using the little resources left behind for themselves. David frowns, becoming depressed at the idea of someone having to live like this.

A faint noise echoes out from the pantry, and David freezes. Someone's still here, and by the sound of it, hasn't heard him yet. He hesitates, but walks forward.

"Hello? Someone here?"

The noises stop, but David doesn't give them a chance to run for it. He makes for the pantry door, hoping they haven't barricaded themselves in again. He didn't really want to have to call the police.

"I know you fellas are in a rough spot, but this is private property," Happy to find the door unblocked, he enters the small room carefully. "I'm going to have to ask you to…"

A familiar mop of black, curly hair and a blue hoodie greet David, and his jaw drops. The intruder turns, stopping his attempt to reach the attic ladder, and pales.

"Shit."


	2. Chapter 2

"M-Max?" David stutters, struggling to believe his eyes.

_Max is here? Why is he here? He- he went home with his parents last month, right?_

Max hops down from the shelves, shoving his hands in his pocket. "Yeah, yeah _David_. I heard you. I'll get out, so don't call the damn police." He walks towards David, trying to squeeze past him and out of the pantry, but the counselor doesn't budge.

He crouches down to be at eye-level with the boy. "Max. What are you doing here? Where are your parents?"

Max does his best to shove David out of the way, unsuccessfully. "I could ask you the same thing, _camp man._ What, do you live here or something? God, get a _life_!"

David stands, grabbing Max by his hoodie so he can't run off. "_I'm _here because I work here, and have to do monthly maintenance to keep things in tip top shape." And also to get some time away from the city, but he didn't have to know that.

Max scoffs. "Look at you! You think I'd believe that? You're basically in your fucking counselor uniform minus the Camp Campbell branded bullshit and those puke green cargo shorts!"

"I, for one, very much like those cargo shorts." Max was deflecting the real issue, and David doesn't expect to get it out of him anytime soon. He shakes his head, picking the small boy up by his hoodie and tucking him under his arm.

"What are you _doing?_" Max screams. "You're not my fucking _counselor _anymore, let go!" Max kicks and flails fruitlessly.

"Max, _language_. And I'm taking you to Sleepy Peak to talk to the police. I don't know what you're doing here, but we have to call your parents and let them know where you are. Camp Campbell is still private property, so you can't just be here during the school year, too."

Max struggles under David's grip, still trying to escape. "Language my ass! I- they don't…" He pauses, then stills, clutching the hem of David's sweatshirt. "Fine. But- can I at least walk? This is humiliating. I'm not four, David."

The older man smiles, carefully setting Max on the ground. He watches him shove his hands into his hoodie pocket again, the familiar gesture bringing back all sorts of fond memories.

"You know Max, we can always just-"

Suddenly, Max kicks him _hard_ in the shin, and David doubles over to clutch at the injured leg. He bites his lip as tears start to well up in his eyes, but snaps out of it as he sees Max running away into the forest.

"Max! _Max!_" David starts to chase him, cringing at the pain in his leg. He runs into the thick woods, already having lost the boy. He stops and sighs.

"Oh, Max…"

TTTTTTTT

Max stops after he thinks he's far enough away from David and pants heavily, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath after the run. He looks around for hiding spots, settling on climbing into a smaller pine tree to have a decent vantage point.

_Of course, it had to be fucking __**David**__. Anyone else I could deal with, but he just __**has**__ to pretend to fucking __**care**__, or something._

He reaches what he thinks is an acceptable height and sits on a branch, leaning his back against the trunk. He rests his head on a smaller branch, listening to David repeatedly call his name in the distance.

He mocks David in his mind. _'Where are your parents, Max?' Ha. I thought we already established this David, they don't care. Nobody cares. _

Max turns his head to watch the sky change colors as the evening looms on. One thing about being up at camp that he always liked was that the views were actually pretty nice. Not that he'd ever let David catch on.

_Once he gives up I'll grab my shit and head out. Hopefully lay low for a bit if nobody fucking bothers me. I can probably come back in a few weeks, once the cops figure I left. It's gonna suck in the meantime, though._

He huddles closer to himself, pulling his hood up and stuffing his arms in his sleeves. October was the last month he could bear to be in just a hoodie, with the wind picking up and the chill coming on. It would be nice to stay in the mess hall, or he could try to break into the counselor's cabin again to see if there was a wood furnace or something in there to keep warm. But then there was David…

Max rubs his eyes. "Always has to come and fuck everything up." He whispers.

_Hope I don't have to end up sleeping in a goddamn tree again. This is the worst._

"Max?"

Max jumps, almost falling out of his perch to look down at David. He grabs a branch to steady himself.

"What do you want _David_. Leave me the hell alone!"

"Max, I can't just leave you here, you're only 11, and you don't have any sort of guardian to look over you! The woods aren't the safest, and I'm sure you know that squatters come around here pretty frequently."

"Yes, you _can _leave me here, asshole. You can just walk away. Forget I was here, go home, jerk off to camping magazines, whatever."

"You know I can't do that, kiddo."

Max starts to get _really_ frustrated with the situation. Why won't he just _leave_?

"I'll jump!" Max stands on top of his branch, pointing at his former counselor. "I'll jump, and you'll have another _dead kid _on your conscience, camp man! Just go!"

"No, Max-!" David tenses, balling his hands into fists and taking a breath.

"If- if you jump, I'll just catch you."

Max groans loudly, plopping back down onto the branch. With David's stupid amount of strength, he probably could catch him. Plan ruined.

"Why do you think you care _so _much, David? Why can't you just be like everyone else and _not?_"

"Max, people do care. I know that it doesn't feel like it sometimes, but-"

"No! No, _David_," he spits the name, pointing furiously at the counselor. "I don't know how you can't get it through your _thick fucking skull_ after 25 years of living on this shitty planet, but nobody _actually_ cares. Gwen didn't care, Campbell didn't care, the other campers didn't care, and most of all, my _parents _don't care." Max starts climbing down the tree, wanting to get closer so he can yell straight into his dumbass counselor's face. "You want to know what people _do _care about? _Them-fucking-selves_, and even then, only probably _half _the time."

At this point, he was standing at almost eye-level with David. "So why don't you just fucking accept that you're looking through some pretty thick rose-colored glasses and realize that the reason I'm here, alone, scrounging for food off of expired _fucking_ camp supplies, is that _nobody_ in my life gives a shit about-"

Max is interrupted by a tight hug from David, one that almost squeezes the air out of him. He tenses, his mind indecisive about the action.

"I care, Max. Even if you don't believe it."

David lifts the small boy off of the tree branch, carefully setting him down on the ground and resting his hands on Max's shoulders. He once again gets to eye-level with the boy and sets a bright smile onto his face, apparently having come to a decision.

"I- I won't bring you to the police yet, but do you want to have some decent dinner? I brought stuff for the weekend, like hot cocoa and soup."

Max stares blankly at David, but nods nonetheless. A good meal would be nice, he thought, and he does have the keys to the cabin…

"The only thing is that I do want to know why you're here. I know it's probably… hard to talk about, but you really can't stay here for the winter, it's not safe." David glances around at the woods surrounding them, almost as if he expects some bear or something to pop out of the shadows. Idiot.

Well, wouldn't that be his luck?

Max hesitates, but nods again, rubbing his eyes only to find his hands coming back wet. Was he crying?

He pulls his hoodie sleeve over his hand and wipes away the tears, shrugging David's hands off his shoulders and slowly walking back in the direction of the camp. He can feel the counselor hovering, probably ready to grab Max at any sign that he's about to bolt, but he didn't have the energy to run anymore. Hopefully, David would at least let him stay here one more night, maybe even in the cabin, before trying to bring him to the station. That would be nice.


	3. Chapter 3

David opens the doors to the counselor's cabin and allows Max to go in first, following him inside after. Opening the windows and letting the breeze through definitely helped reduce the amount of dust and musk lingering in the building, but it wasn't perfect. Max sits down on the couch, sneezing at the plume of dust that rises, and leans back into the cushions, pointedly avoiding any eye contact even through his occasional sniffles.

David frowns at that, but quickly reapplies his trademark smile. There's no benefit in feeling sorry for the kid, not right now, and _definitely _not if he wanted to find out what was going on here. Couldn't risk Max running off, again.

"Alright, the utilities are down, so we can't use the kitchen, but I can start a fire and grab my camping kit. No running water, but I have some water bottles, and worst case scenario, we can use the hand pump over by the lake and boil it. I have some milk in the cooler for hot cocoa, and a few cans of soup as well as some ingredients for a few types of pull-apart breads. Oh, and marshmallows, of course! Do you have any preference for food?"

Max scoffs. "David, I just spent the last month eating cold camp shit. I'm sure I can stomach whatever crap you decide to make. At least it'll be warm." He sniffles again, picking at the loose threads on his hoodie.

"Alrighty, I'll get the Dutch oven then! We'll have an awesome camping dinner!" David heads into his room, leaving the door open, to pull out his mishmash of camping supplies and cooler. He starts preparing the meal in the kitchen after quickly wiping down the counters, keeping a close eye on Max the entire time. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to run off since the possibility of warm food was so tempting to him, but better to be safe than sorry.

David hums as he works, making sure that what he's making is plain enough to satisfy most palettes. He didn't _think_ Max was a picky eater, he usually ate everything at camp, but he wasn't exactly sure. Something similar to pizza should be good, at least. David picks up the heavy Dutch oven, balancing a small bag of charcoal on the top.

"Max, do you think you can grab the door for me? Oh, and that round tin and the lighter fluid, please. We'll need them."

Max stops picking at his hoodie for a second before sliding off of the couch and wandering over to grab the requested materials. David waits patiently for Max to open the door before heading over to the campfire seating over by the lake.

"Do you want to set up the fire? It's getting pretty chilly out lately, and then we can eat outside, too. It's better than sitting inside on a nice evening like this."

"David, you were just here for _three _months. How are you not sick of this yet?" Max gestures at the camp, to the trees and the lake, giving David a confused glare.

David shrugs, keeping his sheepish smile. "I told you Max, I just _really _love camping. The nature, the relaxing nights, the sunsets. It's a nice way to get away from the complexities of modern life."

When they arrive at the campfire, Max still, despite his previous protests, begins to collect wood and sticks around the edges of the clearing, piling them into a neat stack as David and Gwen taught him this past summer. Meanwhile, David gets to work heating the coals to use with the Dutch oven. The use of the lighter fluid makes the entire process much faster.

"Hey, David." Max drops another stack of firewood onto the pile for later and brushes the bark and leaves off his hoodie, wandering over to where David is. "What is that thing? I've never seen Quartermaster cook in it or anything."

"Oh, this?" David sets some sufficiently hot coals under and on the oven, checking his watch. "It's a Dutch oven. You put some hot coals around it and it bakes your food like a regular oven. We can't really use these here at camp because it wouldn't be able to feed groups of 10 people, but with just us two, it'll be perfect." David hands the long lighter to Max, letting him light the campfire himself. "It's a little bit of work, but you can get better food out of it than just cooking something in a pan over a fire."

Max lights the kindling underneath the stack he's made, watching it flare up. "How long will it take?" The boy huddles a little closer to the pit than David would like, but he figures Max can handle himself and holds back a warning.

"Only about a half an hour, at most. We're not cooking anything like raw meat. Do you want to roast some marshmallows in the meantime?"

"David, cut the crap. When are you going to take me to the police?"

David pauses, turning around to glance at Max. He gives him a small smile. "Let me… go get those marshmallows. Then we can talk."

TTTTTTTT

After David got back, Max was laying down across one of the logs, looking out towards the lake and poking the fire with a long stick. Once he hears David approach, he opens his hand, palm up, and it takes a second before the counselor realizes what he wants and plops a marshmallow into his small hand.

Max tosses it into the fire without ceremony, and holds his hand out for another, watching the previous one bubble and burn in the flames. David furrows his brow before reluctantly handing him a second, then takes a seat next to him. Max sits up and spears the marshmallow onto a stick, setting it near the fire to roast gently.

"The police, David."

The half-answer was there immediately. "I haven't decided... yet." He looks over to Max, who wears a look of confusion. He continues

"I want to hear what happened, there's clearly some... reason you're here, and I don't want to make a decision without your input."

Max sighs and stares at the fire. He sticks his marshmallow in just a little bit further, enough for the poor thing to catch, and then brings it up to his face to watch it burn. The light from the fire illuminates his face, but his expression is still unreadable. Stoic.

"It's just like Parent's Day. They don't… they don't _fucking _care David. That's basically it."

The blackened marshmallow goes back into the flames, and David watches it too, this time.

"But… they picked you up from camp, right? And brought you home-"

Max rolls his eyes. "If that's your standard for caring than you're a fucking idiot, David. Anyone who doesn't want to get arrested would pick their kids up." He shrugs. "They'd be fine even if it took a few days." He says nonchalantly.

_Even if it…_

"Max, they didn't pick you up _that day_?" David was shocked, how could they make a kid wait that long? Without a phone, probably without cash, and, for Max, without any idea if they actually _would _pick him up? That was a severe case of child neglect.

Max shrugs again. "It was only a day and a half, about." He looks up at David, answering the question he was just about to ask. "I didn't come back to camp because I didn't want to freak everyone out. Hung out by the pickup location over in Sleepy Peak, told QM that some crappy black car was my mom's, and I watched him drive away."

"Max, you know you should've-"

"Should've fucking _what_, David?" Max yells. "I didn't want the cops called on my shitty parents for being their shitty selves. It just would have caused more issues, so I waited. And yeah, they picked me up eventually, so no big deal. I hung out in that bar for a while, and I had a bit of money for food from some of my scams."

David wanted to do nothing more than stress that _yes, that is indeed a very big deal_, but held off to avoid the argument. If Max was finally willing to open up, he needs to steer clear of irritating him further, or... at least more than he usually does.

Max reaches his hand out, presumably for another marshmallow. David hands him another one, regardless of its destiny.

"Things weren't great… when I got home. After a while, I decided that I got tired of it, and ran off. Left a half-assed note saying that I was staying with someone else, and that was it. I wandered around for a while, but figured that camp was probably a decent place to stay for a bit. Nobody to report me or anything." He sticks the fluffy treat just out of reach of the flames, warming it again.

David remembered that was mentioned before. He had originally thought that Max snuck off for a day or a weekend, but almost an entire _month_ here all alone? It's almost mid-October, and David knows how cold the nights can get up here.

"I picked the lock to the mess hall for food, because that thing's fucking ancient, but I wasn't able to get into the cabin. I've been staying in that old bunker, but it sucks down there without any blankets or anything, and I'm _not_ drinking that chocolate shit. Had to fight off a few homeless dudes, but they were easy enough to kick out. I wanted to row out to Campbell's old summer home, but all the boats were put away, so I just… hung out here."

All things considered, the kid was resourceful, but that didn't make the situation sit any better in David's mind. In hindsight, he really should have gone down to make sure the kids actually got picked up, especially when his suspicions regarding Max came into play. He'll be sure to go down with the Quartermaster next season.

"Why did you run away, Max?" _It can't be worse than staying here, could it?_ "I know that you didn't want to stay with them, but this… this isn't safe. Or… legal."

Max shrugs again. "It isn't that bad, it's better than at home, actually. Nobody yells at me, I don't disappoint anybody, nobody…" He trails off. "I mean, I have my own space here, which is nice I guess. I eat more here, even if the supplies are shit. There are actually less creepy strangers around than at home, too. Feels safer to me."

He didn't exactly answer David's first question, but the implications are there. Was a run-down, empty summer camp _really _better than him living at home? David tenses, taking a deep sigh while staring into the campfire, now beginning to dwindle with the lack of attention. He stands, carelessly tossing a log onto the fire before attending to the Dutch oven. Max watches David, pulling the golden brown marshmallow out of the kicked-up embers and nibbling at it nervously.

As David removes the lid from the oven, confident that it's cooked completely, he hears Max mumble behind him. He drops the lid of the oven onto the ground harshly with a muted _thump_, and then pulls the food out by its aluminum foil, focused on the task at hand. "Sorry bud, repeat that?"

"Are you... mad?"

David stops, the bread hovering inches away from the plate it was going to be placed on. He sets it down gently, but doesn't look at Max. He knows the expression the boy's making, anyways.

David sighs again. "I'm fine kiddo, but you should eat, okay? You can sleep in the cabin tonight, too. I'll pull out all of the bedding for Gwen's room. It shouldn't be dusty since it's been bagged up."

Max picks at the half-eaten marshmallow, glancing over at David walking over with a plate full of steaming food. He avoids making eye contact, keeping his head down and fidgeting in his seat. "You're not going to turn me in yet?" He quietly asks.

David sits back in his spot next to Max, thinking over his response. He fiddles with the aluminum foil, flattening it out to access more of the food. "No, Max. It's getting late, and I don't think that it's… the best decision right now. I can tell there's more to the story, and I'm not going to press you about it when you're hungry and tired."

He pulls off a piece of bread, choosing the sweeter of the two options. "I made cheesy garlic pull-apart bread, and then basically the same thing except with cinnamon and sugar. Not super healthy, but _very_ tasty!" He takes a bite out of the sticky, sugary bun, and pushes the plate towards Max.

Hesitantly, the boy chooses the cheesy bread, taking a small bite. He turns away from David.

"You put too much garlic on it, asshole." Max complains. "But at least it's warm."

David watches him take another, larger bite, and smiles. "I'm glad you like it, Max! Try some of the sweet bread, it's something my mother used to make a lot of the time. I make it a decent amount at home, but nothing beats sweet rolls in a Dutch oven."

Max looks up to him, grabbing another piece of the cheesy bread. "I thought you were gonna be all, '_Oh Max, you have to have dinner before dessert!'_ or something. Seems more in-character for you."

David laughs, shaking his head. "Well, I like sweet things, so that would be torture for me. It's alright to break the rules sometimes, you know? It won't hurt anything." David switches over to the cheesy bread and pulls off a piece, looking out over the lake and the rapidly changing colors of the sky.

TTTTTTTT

"_...avid… David. _David!"

"Hmm?" David rubs his eyes, getting his bearings and running through his memories. Max is standing beside him with his hands in his pockets. "Yeah? Oh, we should probably go inside, huh?" He mumbles.

Max points to David's hiking boots, and the counselor looks at them quizzically.

"Your boots are melting."

David's eyes widen, yanking his feet away from the hot coals. "Ah! Not again!"

Max walks towards the counselor's cabin while David frets over his boots and takes care of things outside. He wanders into Gwen's room and looks around mindlessly, opening and closing drawers and cabinets that used to contain employment rejection letters and shitty slash fanfiction. David comes and goes a few times, bringing things inside, before knocking on the doorframe and walking into the bare bedroom.

"Sorry I fell asleep kiddo, I've had a long day. Seems like things are mostly aired out in here, though. I can set up your bed if you want to get changed."

David goes about unpacking the clean bedding while Max leaves the room to enter David's. His bedroom is equally as bare, but still has some of David's belongings here and there, so it at least feels somewhat cozier. Max hops up on the bed, looking out the window beside it at the night sky.

_Better get ready to go back home tomorrow._ Max kicks his feet as they dangle off the side of the bed, thinking to himself.

_I wonder if they even filed a report or anything. The school probably did, by now._

Max hears the windows close in the other room and slides off the bed, exciting David's room right as the counselor leaves Gwen's.

"Alrighty, everything should be good in there- oh."

Max raises an eyebrow at the counselor, who brings a hand to his face. "I forgot you've been staying in the bunker. I can go get your things if you-"

"David, it's fine." Max pushes past David's legs to enter the bedroom. "I usually sleep in my day clothes at home anyway, get some sleep."

"Are you sure Max? That can't be comforta_**ble-!**_"

David is hit in the side by a doorknob as the door shuts him out. He jumps away, rubbing his side.

Max's voice is muffled through the door. "I said it's fine, goodnight." He says, and David decides to leave him be.

"Okay, um… goodnight, Max! I can go get your things in the morning. If you need anything, you can come and wake me up! Anything at all, okay?"

The bedroom is silent, and David takes that as his cue to leave. He walks over to his bedroom, looks over at Max's room, and quietly sighs before closing the door to his.

TTTTTTTT

Max listens through the door, still sitting on the floor against it after he slammed David out. He hears David's footsteps walk away, then hesitate, before the telltale click of his bedroom door rings through the cabin. Max stuffs his head into his knees, rubbing his stinging eyes on the threadbare denim.

He sits there for a little bit, contemplating his options. He could wait for David to fall asleep, then run off. He could even take his phone, so at least he had some safety while running from city-to-city. He could probably find a charger from a lost-and-found somewhere, too, if he couldn't find David's. If he wanted to leave, that would probably be the best course of action. Down the camp but up a working phone. Maybe he can find a way to make some cash with it, too. His emergency fund was running dangerously low.

If he wanted to stay, however, it would probably mean he goes to the police tomorrow and then gets taken home. He could refuse to tell them his name, but he's sure that David can and will provide any information they need to send him home just from memory. The man had a life, a job, a conscience. He can't be babysitting Max an hour away from his home, and being here really _was _illegal. Basically, if he stayed at camp with David, he was going home- no matter what.

He _could _actually tell the police about the very real reasons he ran away, but that led to two possible outcomes, neither of which very appealing. They'd probably take a statement, he'd tell them everything, which would lead to investigations and people prying into his parent's lives. In the chance they can't find enough evidence to remove Max from the home, they'd just plop him back down with them, and _that _would be bad news for him. As much as he believed that things couldn't get any worse, that would likely make it so.

Or, if they did remove him from his parents, he'd get placed either temporarily or permanently into the system. He'd met people that came from or were in foster care (although they usually vanished within a few months) and from what he knew, it wasn't pretty. Some of those places could be worse than the homes that the kids were removed from, and the kids are reduced to a source of income for the shitty foster parents. He'd probably have less freedom, would move a ton, definitely wouldn't get adopted, (who would want a kid like him, anyway?) and would be more miserable than if he had just stayed with his parents. At least they didn't go on a manhunt every time Max needed some space.

And, he probably wouldn't be able to come back to camp again next summer, but it's not like _that_ was an actual factor in his decision or anything.

Max rubs his face with his hands, he really hated making life-altering decisions overnight, but it was becoming more and more common with each passing day. It was getting irritating.

After an hour or so of staring out of the window and thinking to himself, Max stands up, slowly easing open the latch on the door. He tiptoes over to David's, pressing his ear up to the thin wood to listen for movement in the other room. Hearing none, he eases the latch open again, opening the door only enough for him to quietly slip in.


	4. Chapter 4

David wakes up bright and early, as usual, completely refreshed. The camp beds weren't as nice as his bed at home, but being here made it all the better. He sits up, stretches, and-

Memories from yesterday flood his sleep-addled mind, and he recalls that he has a certain 11-year-old to take care of. His smile softens, concern for Max bubbling into his mind.

_I can… make him breakfast! I doubt the kiddo is up this early, he was a late sleeper at camp._

David rolls over to the side of the bed to check the time on his phone.

Which… isn't there.

He didn't forget it outside, did he? No, he remembers plugging it into his solar charger.

David swings his legs off the side of the bed and stands, opting to get dressed first and search for the thing later. It might be tangled up in the sheets again, or under the bed. Oh well, wouldn't be the first time he's lost a phone.

Lost a phone…

Max.

David, the realization dawning on him in the middle of dressing, quickly buckles his belt and throws on the shirt he was wearing yesterday, rushing out of the bedroom and through Max's open door-

No Max.

"Max?!"

David searches the room, taking note that the bed is still made, but disturbed, as if someone slept on top of the covers. The closet, under the bed, behind the nightstand, the window's still locked, but there's still no Max to be found. He considers-

"_David, you fucking idiot, I'm in here!"_

David pauses, then rushes out into the living room, seeing Max lounging casually on the couch with a small, pink phone. His small, pink phone.

"God, use your brain for once, stop freaking out."

David relaxes, thanking the _stars_ that Max didn't run off. "I- sorry kiddo! I was just… worried."

"Yeah, clearly. I'm here though, so calm the hell down." He swipes at something on David's phone. "Is there something for breakfast? I'm starving."

"I- um, yes! I can go out and start a small fire in front of the mess hall. We can do eggs, toast, and sausage, or I can make a scrambler dish, that would be easier, or-"

"Hey, dude. Chill." Max gets up and hands David the solar charger. "I'll eat whatever, I don't care." Max pushes open the cabin doors, eyes glued to the phone while wandering outside. He doubles back, pointing at David. "Also, you might wanna charge that. I'm gonna be playing games on your phone while you do… whatever it is you came here to do today. I won't like… fuck with your Tinder or anything… this time."

David smiles. "It feels just like camp again! Alright Max, I'll be right out. Stay close, alright? And we can go get your things after breakfast, too."

The cabin door slams, and Max wanders out towards where the tents used to be, probably to find a place to settle. David watches him out the window before grabbing all the supplies he'll need to start cooking.

His mind wanders while getting everything ready, and he can't help but worry about what he's going to do with Max. There was clearly some sort of trouble at home, something that Max didn't want to go back to. A situation bad enough where he'd rather scrounge for meals at a run-down summer camp than stay there.

Despite what others would likely say, David wasn't clueless enough to notice the dozens of red flags being piled up around Max's case. Sure, David was pretty clueless, he didn't know when people were out to get _him_, like Campbell, but people that threatened the kids? He was rather perceptive when it came to his kids. He was trained, _extensively_, on signs of abuse or neglect, and as he went down the list, the boxes for Max just kept getting checked. Aggression, rebellion, withdrawal from activities, abundance of independence, profanities, and runaway attempts (from both his home _and _Camp Campbell, apparently). He always cleaned his plate during meals (if his friends didn't interrupt him), but he still looked small for a kid his age. His hoodie was worn, threadbare, somewhat tattered, but David wasn't sure if it was because he had a lack of clothes, or if that was a personal favorite.

Being a counselor and a teacher would give him some leverage with the police, he'd be regarded as a credible source of information, probably because he was the only adult in the kid's life that could _provide _any sort of information. He'd be pulled into the case and questioned, and he'd of course push for whatever would be best for Max, always taking into account the boy's own preferences.

But Max didn't want to go to the police in the first place, and he isn't just a paper with a list of boxes. No child really is, but Max was a separate exception entirely. He probably knows the possibilities, acutely enough to not want to exacerbate things further by reporting the behavior. He's a smart kid, strangely street-smart, and much more mature for his age than any student or camper that David's known.

And even then, he thought staying at the camp was the best decision.

Or the least scary. The least risky.

David brings the uncooked food outside (while also adding 'dishes' to the list of things to do), where Max is already gathering small amounts of firewood while watching a YouTube video. He plops down next to the pit as David walks up.

"Thanks kiddo! Do you mind getting a piece or two of firewood from behind the Mess Hall while I get this going?"

Max grunts a reply, but stands, slowly wandering behind the building. Meanwhile, David pulls out a lighter and works at the kindling. The fire lights, Max returns, and they sit quietly while the meal is made, with sounds from whatever game the boy's playing at the moment mingling with the crackling of the growing fire and the smell of a fresh meal. The air, however, is tense with the looming discussion on the horizon.

Well, might as well get it over with.

"Max…" David stirs away at the scrambler mix, the name cutting through the tension in the air. "Why don't you want to go to the police?"

Max grimaces, tapping more violently on the phone a few more times before shoving it into his pocket. He looks out at the campgrounds, probably thinking about what he wants to answer this with, choosing his words carefully.

It takes a bit, but he responds. "I just… it'll be a fucking hassle… and everything. I don't wanna deal with it."

"Language." David says quietly. "You know you can't stay here, buddy. It's not safe."

"Yeah, I _know._ It's not like you haven't said it a thousand goddamn times already- um, both of those things."

David's about to make another comment, but Max's quiet voice stops him.

"I- I don't want to go back, I don't want to go into the system, I don't want to make things worse, I don't want to bother anyone else."

The sounds of cooking cease, and David looks over at Max.

"What _do_ you want, Max?"

A few seconds go by, and David forgets about the food to look at Max burying his face in his knees. The kid rubs his eyes, shrugs, and then sighs.

"I don't… I don't fucking know, David. I'm just- I'm just a kid."

David looks back down at the skillet and sighs. He can't expect Max to know the answer to that.

Because he doesn't really know what to do, either.


	5. Chapter 5

David divides the meal between them onto plates, passing Max a fork to eat with.

"I'm sorry Max… I don't know what to do either. I just… want what's best for you."

Max pushes the eggs around on his plate, half-heartedly taking a bite every once in a while. David does the same, but eventually forces himself to finish his meal. He lets the fire die out, and then checks the time on his watch after Max has eaten more than half of his food.

It's nearing around 10:00 am, and David still hasn't gotten any work done on the camp. The day _was _still young, and he had all of tomorrow as well, but he had a suspicion that he won't be getting the majority of his checklist finished due to Max being here.

Not that he minded, of course. He can always come back to the camp. Max…

He needed help _now_.

"_Argh!_ David, just fucking drive me _home_!" David jumps at the outburst as Max stands up and throws the paper plate along with the rest of his meal onto the hot coals. He starts to pace around the area they sit in.

"This whole thing is _stupid_, I just want to stop thinking about it. At least if I go home to my parents I… things probably won't be worse. They've probably been _fucking happy _to be rid of me for a few weeks!"

David stands as well, hesitating before also tossing his plate into the pit. "Now, Max… _language,_ and I really don't think that's the best idea, we can-"

"_What_, we can go to the police? Report me as a runaway problem kid?! You know as well as I do that there are _two _shitty outcomes with going to the feds, I either get put in the fucking system along with every other shitty kid, or they do nothing, tell my parents what I said, and then it gets _worse_, David, if it even _can_ get worse! Even the _good_ option in that bullshit is garbage!"

"Max, I- I don't think I can take you back to your parents… it's… wrong." David runs his hand through his hair, struggling with the confrontation. He doesn't look at Max, instead choosing to focus on the smoldering embers in front of them.

"Yeah? Well, the alternatives are _worse_, asshole, can't you see that? I don't _have_ any other option."

"You… I-" David racks his brain for answers. "Do you not have any family members? Nobody else you can go to instead? You can even stay with me for a time until-"

"Stay with you?" Max interrupts, his voice breaking. "David, you have a job, you have shit to deal with, and also that's _basically _kidnapping, idiot. And _no_, I don't have anyone else to stay with. You think I'd be in this shitty camp right now if I had anyone else?"

"Max, we can work something out with the police, show them that-"

"David, Jesus fucking Christ I swear if you take me to the police I will refuse to tell them anything, I will deny literally anything that I told you, and they'll just send me back home and scare the _shit _out of my parents since I'm in a _goddamned cop car! _This isn't a thing you can just… just _believe _yourself out of, or whatever crap you think you can pull. This is reality. This is life."

"But-"

"No, David- stop." David finally looks down into Max's eyes. He sees the fatigue, the struggle, how tired he is with this whole ordeal.

He looks both too young, and too old to be living life this way.

He finally deflates, sitting back down in his spot. "Just… take me home. Please."

David watches him pick at the wood on the log he's sitting on, sees him completely defeated.

"I… how- how far away do you live, Max?"

TTTTTTT

"Huh, your house really isn't that far, is it?" David sets his phone on his center console where he can watch the GPS, and stretches over to unlock the passenger door.

Max hops in the seat with his backpack, idly playing with the seat controls to become comfortable. "I mean, I walked here after all. Took me a few days, but it wasn't that bad. Sometimes I was in a car, too." Max shrugs, and David looks back down at the GPS, noting the distance.

An hour drive wasn't necessarily that long to _drive_, but to walk? _And_ he had to figure out how to get here on top of all that. There were signs, sure, but only on major roadways.

And, wait, back up- did he…

"Did you _hitchhike _here?" David slams on the breaks as he backs out of the Camp Campbell driveway, earning a glare from the younger boy.

Max rolls his eyes. "No David, you fucking idiot, there are enough bus lines to get a decent chunk of the way. I had some cash, too." He quickly buckles his seatbelt, probably wary of David's driving skill now. "If anyone asked why a kid was all alone then I just said I was going to my dad's or something. Also said I was 13. People don't give enough of a shit to question it."

David sighs, pulling out the rest of the way and beginning to drive down the long, curvy road leading back to civilization. "I… I know you're a smart kid Max, but it really is dangerous out there, especially in the city. Like I told you before, you're almost 20 times more likely to-"

"David, I've lived in cities my entire life. I don't care what your 'overprotective mother' magazine says, as long as you're street smart and don't take candy from people in white vans or wander into needle-filled alleyways, you'll be fine."

David imagines Max wandering around a big city with his hands in his pockets, shooting glares at anyone who's gaze lingers too long on the solitary child. It's almost enough to bring David to tears, but a quick glance to the passenger's seat tells him that crying would probably be a terrible idea right now, so he swallows down his emotions on the matter.

Max looks out towards the mountain, pressing his hand against the window.

"Why aren't we taking the piece of shit camp car?"

"Max, _language_. And I prefer to drive my own when I'm not doing camp things since it's more fuel-efficient. The camp-mobile has more space, though."

Max hums, and they sit silently for a few miles, David fighting against his conscience every second of the drive. He wasn't sure if this was the right decision, the wrong decision, or even a _good _decision, but he was pretty confident that it was one of the latter two. He _did_ know that he couldn't report Max's situation and expect anything to come of it without his cooperation, so he was essentially stuck between a rock and a hard place. He didn't have a choice.

It didn't make him feel any better.

"What do you plan on telling your parents when you get back? I can walk you to your door."

Max shrugs again, messing with the controls for the radio. "I dunno, probably a version of the truth. Makes the best lie. Say I was with a friend, and then at camp, you showed up, took me home because I _wanted _to go home." He looks towards David, drawing his brows together. "And _don't _act weird, it'll just end up fucking me over. If they talk to you, which they probably will, just… say you need to be somewhere. They'll probably invite you in for cookies or some shit, say no. Invite you for dinner, say no. I don't trust you to not fuck this up for me, okay?"

David's hands tighten around the steering wheel, and he clenches his jaw. "Um… sure. I can do that… Max."

They keep driving, and David sees an exit with a number of drive-thrus and restaurants. It's still early, and they did just eat, but Max didn't finish his meal. He'll probably get denied, but he asks anyway.

"Did you want to stop somewhere for lunch? I know we just ate, but it's almost 12 now, and I'd feel better if I gave you back to your parents with a full stomach."

Max grimaces. "David, you're not returning a fucking car, you don't need to feed me before you take me back." He shifts a bit in his seat, and then continues. "Let's not and say we did, I don't really have an appetite. If you're hungry then you can eat after you drop me off or some shit."

David checks the GPS, only another 15 minutes.

He really isn't looking forward to this.


	6. Chapter 6

"Here, the end of the street, on the corner."

"Is this... where you live, Max?"

David looks around at the _very_ large houses with carefully sculpted hedges and white picket fences. It was a great location, and, after taking a glance at the GPS, he was pretty sure this school district was one of the top three in the state. With three-story houses valued well over 6-figures, low crime rates, and a large city only a few miles away, this would probably be the ideal place to raise a child- if you could afford it.

It was most certainly _not _what David expected.

"What, my family isn't poor or anything, _David, _nice _racial _assumptions." Max fidgets in his seat, and David can tell he's wringing his hands in his pocket. "We're fine, financially. My parents are just assholes. Pull into the driveway."

David pulls behind a small white Audi, the car in front of him significantly newer and nicer than his forest green Honda. He parks the car and looks over at Max.

For the first time, the younger boy looks to be having second thoughts. He stares ahead at the familiar car and garage blankly.

"Max?" David reaches over to touch him on the shoulder, but Max slaps his hand away, snapping out of his thoughts, and starts to unbuckle his seatbelt. He struggles with the latch, but eventually frees himself with a huff.

"Just shut up and let's… let's go. I don't swear around my parents, by the way. Don't tell them I do." He avoids looking at David as he grabs his backpack and leaves the car.

David follows, exiting the vehicle and warily gazing up the curving path to the front door. He glances over to Max, catching the boy lagging behind, but notices something else as well.

The counselor doubles back and rounds the car, earning a confused expression from the small boy. Max's face falls as David closes the passenger's side door that was absentmindedly left open.

Max blinks, glancing between David and the car. He shrinks a little under the counselor's gaze. "Um, sorry. Forgot, I guess."

David smiles down at him, taking a moment to ruffle the boy's hair as he passes Max. "No problem, kiddo. No harm done." He says softly.

Max touches his head gently, keeping a slow pace as they walk down the small path. David steps up onto the porch (still making sure Max is following) and hesitates, finger hovering above the doorbell for a few seconds.

He feels a small tug on his pants, and looks down at Max with a shaky smile.

Max stares at the doorbell rather than at David. "What's your last name?" He whispers.

David blinks, the question catching him off-guard. He tilts his head slightly to the side.

"...Greenwood." He responds.

Max nods, clenches David's jeans a little tighter, and then releases, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. David gives him another second, and then rings the bell.

_No going back._

David keeps his eyes down and on Max, carefully observing his actions. There's movement in the house, footsteps, and the boy tenses. David puts a hand on his shoulder that isn't immediately brushed away, hopefully offering some reassurance.

The door unlocks, and a tall woman with long black hair and the slightest hint of an accent answers the door. "Hello, what can I- Maxwell!"

She looks down at Max, a look of surprise on her face. After a moment, she smiles up at David. "Has Maxwell been an issue? I know he's been with a friend for a while, thank you for driving him home!"

David offers his brightest smile, still holding Max's shoulder, who doesn't budge. "No worries! He was-"

"Um," Max interrupts, still looking down at the concrete. "I was up at Camp Campbell for a little bit with counselor Greenwood, it was nice to go camping again." He finally looks up at his mother. He shrugs, but doesn't smile. "He made me breakfast over a fire, too."

She touches her hand to her chest delicately. "Oh, thank you Mr. Greenwood, that must've been a hassle, I apologize if he caused any trouble all the way up there." She reaches out for Max, who pointedly avoids her hand and nudges himself inside. She draws her lithe wrist back to herself. "Maxwell, don't forget to thank your counselor." She scolds.

"Thanks, Mr. Greenwood." Max mumbles. His mom's face flashes a quick grimace, likely at the careless tone, but it quickly resets into a polite smile.

David continues the conversation, drawing her attention back to him. "Oh, it was no trouble at all. I'm always excited to get the kiddos excited for camping!" He pauses, contemplating his next sentence. "...Max asked me to drive him home, it- it seems he didn't really have a ride back?"

Behind Max's mom, Max shoots David a warning glare, unceremoniously dropping his backpack by the coat hook.

Maintaining her calm demeanor, the woman pauses. She laughs, and then waves a hand in dismissal at David.

"Oh, that's silly. Maxwell has a friend in the area, he could always have gotten a ride home with his parents!" She looks back, towards Max, who lowers his gaze and kicks his shoes off. "He must've had a fight with his little friend, that would explain why you found him at the campgrounds." She looks back at David, a feigned look of surprise on her face. "Oh, my apologies, leaving you on the porch like this, would you like to come inside for some tea? Coffee? My husband just had a colleague over, so we have plenty of leftovers!"

David pauses for a moment, remembering Max's warning. He glances at the boy, who has his '_I swear to god I will kill you_' look chiseled into his face.

"Tea would be lovely!" David responds, accepting the invitation and ignoring the younger boy fuming only a few feet away. Max's mother steps aside, allowing David in.

He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I must've looked at Max's paperwork probably dozens of times, but I can't seem to remember your names!"

The woman offers a handshake, and David takes her hand, her manicured nails brushing the back of his. "I'm Rhea, and my husband is Victor."

"David, thank you." He releases, taking a moment to look around the abode. "I had a blast with Max this summer, it was quite surprising seeing him at the campgrounds when I showed up!"

Rhea turns, her hair and dress flowing behind her dramatically. She begins to lead David into another room. "Oh, that was no problem for us. Maxwell is _very _independent, and we allow him to make his own choices quite often, although he _should _have been with his little friend. Niel, was it?- Ah, Maxwell!"

Max, currently shuffling his way up the stairs, flinches at the name, then turns mechanically. "Yes, mother?" He strains.

"Why don't you stay down here with all of us? David was nice enough to drive you home, you can take a few minutes to socialize. Your father should be just finishing lunch, anyways."

Max runs his fingers along the banister for a brief second, but nods, his head bowing as he slowly descends the stairs one by one. David looks on with a sad smile, the kiddo clearly didn't want to be here, in the house _or _eating with his family, but he's never seen Max this compliant before. Based on his behavior at camp, David would expect him to say some expletive and dismiss whatever instruction was given to him, not simply follow along quietly.

This Max was sad, the spark from his electric green eyes diminished. While David didn't _necessarily _think all of the swearing and rebellion was the best thing a kid could be doing, he knew now that the freedom to even do so was likely something he craved. Here, it looked like Max was constantly tense, treading on glass in his own home.

He seemed _afraid_.

And it made David sick to his stomach.

Rhea escorts David into the dining room, where he can now hear a man speaking under his breath on the phone in the neighboring kitchen. He turns, waving at David for a second, before walking out of sight. A few seconds later, his head pops out again, pointing to the kitchen counter.

"Rhea, I have lunch made if you want to serve it to our guest. James had to leave early, so there's plenty. I'll be there in a moment."

Rhea smiles, waving him off. "Oh don't worry darling, I've got it, take your time- oh!" She quickly continues before Victor can walk away, "This is David, by the way! Maxwell's counselor from summer camp!"

David gives a small wave and takes a seat at the dining room table. The man takes a short glance at David, smiles, and then leaves. Max steps in the dining room shortly after, taking the seat directly beside the counselor.

"Maxwell, keep your counselor company for a bit, I'll go get some drinks. Any preference on how you like your coffee?"

David pauses. He doesn't _really_ like coffee, but he wanted to make a good impression as well as observe this home situation. "Plenty of milk and sugar, please." He responds.

Rhea smiles, going to the kitchen to leave David and Max alone. David turns over to Max, but finds himself quickly jerked forward as Max grabs his bandana.

"I told you to fucking _leave_!" Max whispers, eyes formed into thin slits. "I don't want you spilling anything else, David, you could _seriously _fuck shit up with you being a- a fucking _moron _as usual!"

David grasps the boy's hand, trying to loosen the pull on his neck. Were Max's hands sweating? "Max, I just… need to see some things. It's my duty as a Camp Campbell counsel-"

Max jerks him forward again, almost headbutting the man, but stopping his speech nonetheless. "_No,_ you're not my _fucking _counselor anymore, David, this isn't your _fucking_ business, okay? Just leave, forget anything I told you, forget anything you _think_ you see, and go _home_. I-"

"Maxwell."

Max freezes, instantly releasing David's bandana. His eyes blow wide, and he stares into David's for a split second before sitting properly in his seat and facing forward. David looks up, seeing Max's father slip his smartphone into his back pocket, entering the room from the side Max wasn't facing. The man grins, extending a hand out to David.

David stands, finding, to his surprise, that he's a few inches taller than the older man. However, Victor was still somewhat built, and had the same jet black hair and cold eyes that Max usually wears, although the hair was flattened and pushed back out of the man's forehead rather than wild and fluffy like Max's. The resemblance was still… weirdly uncanny, it felt like an adult trying to impersonate one of his campers. David does his best to smile, feeling even more intimidated by the calloused hands and firm handshake before introducing himself.

"Ah, David, thank you for driving Max home." Victor sits on the other side of the table, facing Max directly. "That camp is quite a trek, isn't it? I recall driving for around 45 minutes or so to get to the pickup point. Was he any trouble?"

David struggles to continue his smile, placing his hands in his lap. "Not at all, Max is always great at Camp Campbell, he seems to love it there. I think he enjoys the outdoors and the scenery, I oftentimes find him looking out over the lake or to a sunset after camp activities."

The man glances at Max, and then back at David. "What kind of stuff do you do at that type of summer camp? I used to be in a boy scout offshoot. Did target practice, scuba diving, carpentry, obstacle training, typical outdoorsy stuff."

David's eyes light up, excited to be able to talk about Camp Campbell. "Well, Camp Campbell prides itself on being a multi-themed summer camp catered to every camper, usually with an emphasis on outdoor activities as well. Science, theatre, role-playing, we basically have anything that the parents sign their little campers up for!" David pauses, looking down at Max. "Since um… Max wasn't signed up for a _specific _camp, he got a little taste of everything, right… Max?"

David takes a closer look at the boy beside him, who seems to be staring into his lap and wringing his hands nervously. He fidgets in his seat, avoiding meeting eyes with his father.

"Um, right D- Mr. Greenwood. It was… fun."

David glances up to Victor, who has a sour look on his face. The man raps his knuckles loudly on the table, causing Max to jump. "Maxwell. Eyes up." He commands.

Max's head snaps up, looking more and more distressed by the moment. The boy does his best to keep a neutral expression, but David can see the strain in his face and the shivers running through his small body.

There was something _seriously_ wrong with this image.

"There you go, champ." Victor smiles cooly at Max, and then at David, who gets a chill up his spine at the expression. "Sorry, he gets like this sometimes, I'm sure you've seen him this way during the summer."

_No, I haven't._

David smiles back, keeping his eyes on the man across from the table and slowly shifting towards Max, but not touching him yet. "No worries, I'm a teacher and a counselor for a reason, I have a number of students that I've had to walk through this with."

_But never Max._

Victor, looking uncomfortable, stands. He nods to David. "I'll let you take care of… _this_, then. I'm going to have a moment with Rhea, I don't think she knows I'm off the phone yet!" He laughs, and David forces another smile before he leaves.

Once they're alone, David bends down and lightly touches Max on the shoulder.

"Max, Max… is there something wrong?"

Max jerks back from the touch, as David expected him to, but otherwise doesn't respond, intently focusing on the doorway his father left through. David looks behind him and, upon realizing what Max was fixating on, shifts his body in front of it.

Max's eyes gradually focus on David's and he shakes his head, taking a wobbly breath. "Mr. G-" he swallows, "_David_," he corrects, "you _have _to leave. If- if you leave then I can go up in my room and they won't have to deal with me."

David maintains a low, soothing voice, attempting to calm Max down. "I know you're having a rough time right now Max, but I just need you to try to stay calm, okay? Focus on me. Focus on my voice, slow your breathing." Max looks at David, and then down at his own hands, clenching his fists and taking long, deep breaths. David chews his lip, taking a small risk by placing his hand on Max's small head. When he doesn't flinch away, he gently runs his hand back and forth through the boy's hair, timing it with his own breathing and soothing reassurances.

Something within David bends, and then snaps, and his face sets into a determined stare, glancing back over his shoulder at the quiet discussion happening in the kitchen. His mouth presses into a thin line, and he refocuses on Max, who's managed to mostly calm himself down.

"It's… alright, Max. Everything will be okay." David whispers. Max looks up, confusion written across his face. The former counselor smiles. "I'm not going to leave." He finishes, and Max's parents enter the room shortly after.

David faces forward, accepting the coffee and pastries with a quick thanks. Max's father places a plastic cup in front of his son, along with what looks to be half of a club sandwich. His parents sit across from them with only their drinks, both glancing warily at Max before redirecting their attention to David.

"So," Victor leans back in his dining chair, sipping his black coffee. "You mentioned you're a teacher? What school district do you teach in? I've heard the ones in this area pay rather well."

David removes his hand from Max's head, who mechanically picks up his sandwich and begins eating.

"I teach one county over, a little more out in the country. And yes, I do know this school district in particular is very nice. Max is lucky to go here, I'm sure he's receiving a quality education."

Rhea speaks up now. "Oh no, Maxwell has been homeschooled for this past year, right after he came back from camp, actually." She begins to fiddle with her pastry, scraping off a bit of the frosting and discreetly wiping it on a napkin. "He had some issues with some of the teachers and students there, we would get phone calls constantly, he would get detentions quite often, and there were many times where Victor would have to leave work to bring him home." She pauses, stirring her tea and glancing back at Max. "Now he has a… personal tutor, and they study where we can keep a very close eye on him."

David files that information away, pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together. "Ah, so homeschooled for grade… six, I believe? That's about what I teach. Physical, environmental, and life sciences, specifically."

Victor shakes his head, eyeing down Max, who shrinks even more in his seat, if that was even possible. David suppresses a scowl as the man speaks. "Just be glad you've never had this one as a student. Too out of control for any of them to handle." He sighs, taking another swig of his coffee. "We don't even know what to do with him, half the time."

"Oh, I don't know," David shrugs, smiling down at Max. "I think I got through to him well this summer, he just needed some... personal guidance, is all." Max looks up, slight confusion on his taught expression. "A little bit of extra attention and observation on my part, but I think, in the end, Max really ended up enjoying his summer there."

Max redirects his attention back at his sandwich, kind of… looking at it, but with a distant stare. He remains silent.

A loud noise, Victor slapping his hand on the table, causes Max, David, and Rhea to all jump. Max's spine goes ramrod straight, and his eyes snap to his father. "That true, Maxwell?" He asks.

What the _hell_ was that about?

Max seems to struggle with the conversation and rubs his face, squeezing his eyes shut and actively trying to stay calm. He nods but still doesn't respond, which apparently doesn't please Victor enough, based on his deep-set scowl.

"Maxwell!" His mother chides in a tight whisper. "I'm sorry David, he doesn't typically get like this. Usually, he remains far more _composed,_" she stresses the word, eyes pointedly flashing towards Max "especially around our guests."

David glances between the family, feeling the tensions in the room run high. His mind skims through options, trying to decide on the best course of action that would calm Max, diffuse the situation, and ensure a safe outcome.

And then it clicks. This is the opportunity he was looking for.

David places a stable hand on the back of Max's head, smiling across the table at his parents. "Why don't you have Max stay with me for a while?" He suggests.

_Sugar cookies, that was too out of the blue._

His parents blink, clearly taken off-guard by the question. They glance between each other, and then, after a pause, look at Max and David with guarded expressions.

_Please please __**please**__ let this work._

Victor's deep voice wavers. "I'm sorry, I don't think we follow…"

Max's breathing, which David is paying close attention to, slows beside him. He can feel that Max is still tense, but is beginning to focus back on the conversation at hand. David takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Well," he begins, "I wouldn't mind taking Max for a while and keeping an eye on him. I know how to deal with kiddos his age, it's basically all I do, and I can help him learn ways to process his anxiety in a healthy way."

He was pretty sure that it wasn't anxiety, at least nothing that simple, but Max's parents would likely not notice the fib.

"Being a part of the teaching staff, I can streamline his enrollment and get him into his grade in my district, at least temporarily."

He had no idea if he could _actually _do that, but he would darn well try.

"I'll send over progress reports, and you can dismiss your personal tutor, whom I would essentially take the place of."

He doubts they actually _have _a personal tutor, and his 'progress reports' would likely go straight in the trash, not that it mattered.

"If your concerns are about me. I can give you the records and teacher evaluations I've gotten over the years, and give you a few references you can speak to."

Whatever they need, whatever they want, although he doesn't think they'll ask for much.

"As long as it's alright with Max, I can even take him today! I could use the extra help around the camp, as I've gotten a little behind schedule."

He looks down at Max, who's begun to look almost contemplative, a myriad of thoughts, possible problems, and outcomes no doubt rushing through his brain tirelessly. "Max? Is that alright with-"

"Yes."

The room stills, Max taking a moment to come back to reality. He glances around nervously "I mean-" He stutters. "I… do want to go back to… public school. And I think D-... um, counselor Greenwood was really helpful at camp." He pauses for a moment, actually _looking _at his parents for what seems to be the first time. "He helped me deal with my problems, I think. Was a really good teacher and everything. The first teacher I actually liked. I know I don't really... _deserve _to go back to school, but I could also be… homeschooled? By Mr. Greenwood?" He looks up at David, the soft and unsure expression foreign on Max's face. "I think you could figure something out, right?" he asks.

The couple exchange a look once again, Max's mother growing a concerned expression. "I-I'm sorry David, but what exactly are you looking to get out of this? We haven't offered payment, although we're sure we can provide some, and you've only known Maxwell for a very short period of time. I'm sure you can understand our… apprehension."

David smiles honestly, thankful he doesn't have to lie about this one. "I'm not in it for anything besides Max's well-being. I'm not the type to claim favorites, as that's simply unprofessional, but in the short time that Max has been at Camp Campbell, I've seen some _outstanding_ potential in him. I've seen him grow, solve complex problems, help other campers, and make friends all in a span of minutes. If I can help him in whatever way I can, I'll consider that an absolute win."

Max's father leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his hands, mulling over the decision. He rubs his face and looks towards his wife, who wears an equally thoughtful expression.

After a moment, Victor speaks through his hands. "Maxwell, head upstairs and get some fresh clothes, and whatever else you'll need to stay at Mr. Greenwood's for some time."

David releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding.


	7. Chapter 7

Max walks up the stairs in a bit of a daze, not really registering what just happened. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and the tips of his fingers felt fuzzy, but the reality of the situation was slowly setting in, calming him with every foot of distance he got between him and his parents.

Once he gets to the top of the stairs, he allows himself to think. David was taking him in? And his parents were _letting _him? He knew that they didn't exactly love him being around or anything, but he thought they'd think about it a little longer, at least. Put up a little more of a fight. Max grimaces, the realization that they cared even _less_ than he thought somehow disappointing. They'll find some clever way to explain it to the neighbors, and that's all that mattered. Not him.

_Never me._

Max enters his room, quietly closing the door behind him and then sliding down it to sit on the floor. If he listens closely enough, muffled speech can be heard echoing up the stairwell, David's cheerful voice dominating the discussion. He runs over the previous conversation again in his head, and while he was, of course, happy to be leaving, he also had to wonder…

_Why?_

David didn't _see _anything. Nothing happened, his parents didn't call him any names, they didn't hit him. There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary, from what Max could tell, other than the unwarranted freak-out on his part. A reaction to _nothing_. A reaction he could be _faking_, as far as David knew. Yet still, the man knew exactly what to say, exactly what to do, to get Max into a… better situation.

He was there for him.

It was strange.

Max wasn't sure how to feel about it.

Max stands up, knowing better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, slowly preparing a small collection of clothes and items he'd have to bring over. How long would he be staying? A few days? A week? A month? No, probably not a month, David would get sick of him by then. A few outfits, enough to fit in his extra backpack, the blue one. He still had his original grey backpack downstairs that had most of his stuff in it, now he just needed a few supplemental things.

Was he exactly _excited _to be staying with David, specifically? Fuck no. The man was exhausting to deal with at the best of times, and if that enthusiasm and happiness and cheer continues into the school year _and_ his home life, it'd drive Max pretty fucking mad. The two of them were polar opposites, on top of that. While David might _pretend _to get along with him fine, he knew for a fact that, eventually, Max would wear him down to the point of breaking, just like he'd almost done at camp.

On multiple occasions.

But this… living with David, was better than the alternatives. He at least knew the counselor, and he can probably swing it so that the guy leaves him alone most of the time. He was apparently a teacher, so he had to go to work, hopefully leaving Max to his own devices for most of the day. He can't imagine what living with him would actually be like, though. If he was anything like he was at camp, then likely pretty fucking infuriating.

Max zips up his backpack, grabs his pillow and blanket, throws the untouched note he left his parents in the trash, and then sits on the floor, clutching his pillow, awaiting his fate.

After a time, he hears soft footsteps coming up the stairs, either his mom or David, by the sound of it. "_...on the… sure! …good care of him, don't you worry!_" Yep, David.

His bedroom door creaks open, the counselor's head poking through. He looks down at Max, slowly, gently opening the door and beaming one of his brightest smiles.

_It looks fake._

"C'mon kiddo! You all packed up?"

Max looks up at David, down at his backpack, and around his room. He shrugs, burying his face in his pillow, and stands without saying a word.

David's smile softens, and he takes a cautious step forward, slowly kneeling down to be at eye level with Max. He extends a hand, but draws it back after a moment's hesitation. Interesting.

He says in a low voice, "Hey, I told you I wasn't leaving, okay? This is the best option I could think of."

Max glances up at him, still unsure of his motives, and nods.

"Let's just get out of here, camp man. They gave me fucking orange juice, and now I feel sick."

Max walks around David, disappearing from his field of vision to enter the hallway. The counselor stands, picking up the boy's forgotten backpack, and moves to leave. He watches Max descend the stairs down the hallway, but before David shuts the door behind him, he stops. Taking a moment, he turns around to study Max's bedroom.

It's small, had a sloped ceiling, and didn't contain much. A plain twin bed with a metal frame, a small dresser, a closet, an end table with a digital alarm clock, a small flat screen television, and a small trash bin. In terms of personal belongings, there were few, but he figured Max had probably grabbed whatever stuff he cared for that would have been lying out. Honestly, it looked like something from a magazine, what with the lack of personality. There were a few paintings on the walls that went with the rest of the decor in the room, and the entire mood was very mature and clean, much like the rest of the house. It didn't really _seem_ like a kid's room, actually- more like a small guest room.

David shuts the door, preparing to go back downstairs, when he hears a knock on the bedroom door, as if something's hanging on it. He draws his brows together, curious of what it is. He knows it's rude to snoop, but if the kiddo was going to be living with him, he should know his interests, right?

_That's a bad justification for snooping and you know it, Davey._

Nevertheless, David peeks around the door to see what's attached to it, and his jaw drops.

_It's… the staff._

David steps back into the room, gingerly lifting the broken Order of the Sparrow staff off of its place on the door. The top, the broken end, sports a clean hole drilled through it, a piece of leather tied in a loop to keep it hung on it's place on the door.

David's eyes prick with tears, and he unzips the backpack to slip it inside, quickly shutting the door behind him and trotting down the stairs where Max is waiting with a suspicious glare. The boy picks up his backpack and walks straight for the door, not even acknowledging his parents watching him nearby. He slips on his shoes, paying close attention to the quiet conversation behind him.

"If he causes any trouble, feel free to call us."

"Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary, but thank you! I'll call you on Sunday evening to work out some more details, is that alright with you?"

A grunt from his father. "If it's anytime after 8, I'll be unavailable, but Rhea should be able to handle things." Max can feel Victor's eyes on the back of his head as he pretends to struggle with his shoes. He'd rather not look back at that bastard. "We'll be in touch, but we do have rather busy schedules."

"And I'll definitely keep that in mind! Max, are you ready to go?"

Max stands up, debating just storming out of the house that second with a 'fuck you!'. But, deciding that he doesn't really have the energy to do so, he simply turns and nods, shrugging on his backpack and picking up his pillow and blanket to keep his hands full, a silent excuse for no physical contact.

David's eyes flicker between the family, Max wants to smirk at the fact that even _he _can read the tensity of the room. "Um, alright! Thank you Rhea, Victor, we'll keep in touch. Here Max, I'll get the door for you."

The front door opens, and Max steps outside, careful not to trip down the porch with the bundle of bedding in his arms. He walks to David's car, the literal vehicle of his escape in his sights, tuning out the conversation behind him.

"Hey, _Maxwell!_" A low voice barks, and he stops in his tracks. Spinning around, he sees his father standing on the porch next to David. He stares the man down, fear and apprehension sneaking back into his mind. Shit, he must've been calling him, based on the look he wore.

Their gazes meet, and Victor's eyes narrow. "_Behave_." He says, the hidden implications ringing clear in Max's mind. His heartbeat rises, but he nods, firmly, before David gently taps him on the shoulder and nudges him to the car.

"C'mon, Max." He says under his breath. "Let's go back to camp."

The voice is so, so small, so quiet.

Max decides he hates it.

David escorts Max to the passenger's side door, only pausing to toss Max's extra backpack in the back seat of the sedan. He opens the door, Max hopping in while still holding all of his bedding. The counselor closes him in gently, and Max situates himself in the front seat, throwing his original, grey backpack in the back before curling up in the front with his blankets and pillows.

David rounds the car, stepping into the driver's seat and pulling out of the driveway. Max can't help himself from glancing out the window as they leave, only to find that his parents have already gone inside. He grimaces, but shuffles further into the seat, letting his blanket and pillow swallow him almost completely.

They get to the end of the street and David stops at the corner, setting up his GPS after they're a decent distance away from Max's home. Before they continue, however, David reaches over to Max's side, pulling the seatbelt over the boy and all of his bedding, situating it to be as comfortable as possible. Max begrudgingly allows David to fuss over him, not really having the energy to complain anymore. Honestly, he just wanted to go to sleep.

He didn't want to think of how much this is going to change his life.

The two drive for a while, Max dozing off as the miles to camp decrease. At one point, he startles awake, and he can tell David's staring at him from the way the car swerves. Max scowls, rubbing out the sleep in his eyes.

"Mind your own business, _David._ Pay attention to the road before you kill us!"

The car shifts back in place on the road, and David sighs as he turns his eyes back to the nearly empty highway. "Max, I just want to-"

"_No! _No," He coughs, clearing his throat from the sleep. "we're _not_ going through this."

"At some point you have to-"

"_No_, I fucking _don't_, David. I'm fine. You- I don't care. I really, really don't. Talking about it won't even change anything, it'll just make me… fucking pissed off, okay?"

Max can see the hesitation in David's face, eyes locked on the road as he grips the steering wheel. The boy clenches his teeth, biting back a snide comment towards the counselor.

David continues in that stupid, gentle voice. "I know you don't have to, but I just want you to know that I'm here… if you need to talk. I just want what's best for you, Max, and I can do better if I know the situation." Another pause. "It doesn't have to be everything- not now, or ever, but please trust me when I say that it- that _I_ can help."

Max stays silent, mostly because he doesn't really _have _anything to say to that. He just wanted to change the subject, didn't want to be reminded of what happened. Didn't want to be reminded of his father, or his mother.

Max catches a glimpse of an exit sign flying by, a handful of colorful fast food logos displayed on it. He hadn't really noticed, but he _was_ getting hungry, now that his nausea has finally passed.

As if David could fucking read minds, he smiles, and says "Hey, why don't we stop and get some food? We haven't had anything decent to eat or drink since breakfast, you didn't seem to like what your parents gave you, either."

"Didn't you accept those crappy scones or whatever my mom brought you?" Nice, Max. Completely counterintuitive to what you want.

"I… didn't have an appetite." David laughs, hesitating. "I didn't even drink the coffee. Even with milk and sugar, I can't stand the... bitterness."

Max rolls his eyes at the thinly veiled metaphor, nodding towards the exit. "Let's stop here, I told you that you could eat after we saw my shitty parents, anyways. It's only fair."

"Max, language. And... of course." He smiles. "What would you like to eat?"


	8. Chapter 8

"God, I _hate_ eating in cars."

"Oh c'mon Max, it wasn't that bad. It felt like a road trip!"

"David, I know I'm only 11, but I don't think driving back and forth for two hours and eating McDonald's for lunch is _anything_ like an actual road trip." Max slams the car door, shrugging his backpack on and carrying his pillow under his arm. "First of all, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to go on trips with people you actually _like_, not your annoying camp counselor."

David pulls Max's blanket and his extra backpack out of the back seat, following the boy to the counselor's cabin. "Well I for one, thought it was quite nice. I'm glad you got some rest in too, because I _would _very much appreciate some help around the camp."

Max groans, knocking his head against the screen door dramatically. "Do I _have_ to?" He asks in a childish manner.

"Hmm." David unlocks the cabin, opening the door for Max. "I don't suppose you _have _to, but if you help, we can get pizza for lunch tomorrow. Plus, if we finish early we can either relax here for the rest of the day or head home early, your choice!"

Max drops his stuff on the ground next to the couch, looking as if he's considering the offer.

"Double dessert for all of next week and we'll make it a deal, camp man."

"I'll make it until Tuesday, but you have to help me with _everything_, alright?"

"Wednesday, and I _won't_ leak your cellphone number online!"

"Deal!"

Max assists David with the majority of the camp tasks, doing his best to ignore the strange situation he was in. He really didn't want to think about the realities of what's currently happening in his life, because… yeah, it was kind of fucked up.

He definitely avoids thinking of his parents, but there would always be little things that would swing his mind back over to them. Something Max would do, a self-deprecating thought, or even some of the things that David would say (regardless of all of the reasons he _wasn't at all_ like them) would cause invasive memories to worm through his brain. Max would always do his best to push them back down. He went through the rest of the day on autopilot, focusing on the work, Max just wanting some sort of distraction.

TTTTTTTT

David stands, removing his bandana from his nose and taking a deep breath. The entire cabin smelled of whatever strong disinfectant David was using on the old fridge, some fake, chemical-laden pine odor wafting around the both of them. Max cringes as he ties off the bag of used paper towels and tosses it outside.

"Golly, is that harsh!" David follows Max outside, propping the cabin door open. "Alright, lets let the cabin air out a bit, do you want to do dinner? We can start another fire, although I think I only have some canned soup left, plus leftovers. Is that alright with you?"

Max shrugs, pulling David's phone out of his hoodie pocket. "Don't care. Do we have anything else to do today?" He checks the time, it's almost 7pm, but the emotional drain combined with the manual labor made his eyes feel heavier than they would usually at this time. Dinner next to a fire would be nice, to be honest. Not that he'd let David catch on.

"Only cleaning out the fire pits, but we can do that before bed or tomorrow morning, if you're up for it. After that, all we have to do is clean out the food stores and double-check the campground for anything that might attract animals."

Max mumbles an affirmative, walking off to the fire pit by the lake with David's phone, playing some mind-numbing game. He frowns when the low battery notification shows up, but keeps playing, not wanting to sit alone with his thoughts. He'll have to ask David for that solar charger later.

Max doesn't set out to build a fire, but David doesn't seem to mind. Returning with some supplies for dinner, the counselor begins to prepare their meals with things from the mess kit, humming all the while. The boy glances up at David, knowing that the guy's likely trying to give him as much space as possible.

Max closes the game and watches David hum as he gets the fire going, idly contemplating if this comfortable, silent coexistence would continue into the counselor's home life. Although, if David is anything like he is at camp, then Max should be able to get what he wants relatively easily, including freedom and privacy.

David pulls out a small foil package, the sweet rolls from yesterday, probably, and pushes them near the steadily growing fire. Max's eyes linger on them for a few moments before a question pops into his mind.

"Hey David, why the fuck aren't we allowed to have candy or sweets, and you're out here cooking fucking cinnamon rolls over a goddamn fire?!"

David gasps at the outburst. "Max! Language." He flips the buns and moves them to a better location near the hot coals. "That's because, despite my _many _lectures on food storage and safety, you campers will _still_ end up keeping candy wrappers under your beds and in your tents. If you bring food out into the wilderness, it's important that you store it properly, or else you'll attract-"

Max dismisses him, lying down along the log and looking up at the sky. "Yeah, yeah, bears and diabetics. I listen, David. I just don't care."

David smiles, heating up the meals in a camping pot. "Well, I'm glad you understand, but some of your other, more… reckless campers don't, so rules like that are required." David shrugs. "If you do, though, that means if just the two of us go camping, then we can bring whatever we want!"

Max bites back a rude comment and quiets, leaving David to cook. He snaps open a water bottle and takes a long drink to avoid continuing the conversation. He fiddles with the label as he watches the sun set over the campgrounds.

Soon, Max notices David stand up and sit next to him. "Alright kiddo, here you go. Sorry if it's not what you usually have, but it's all I brought!"

A bowl hovers in front of him, and Max sits up and takes it silently. He focuses on eating, drowning out the events of the day.

He doesn't really feel that hungry, anymore.

He eats about half of his meal, then places it aside and slides down the log to be closer to the fire. He curls his legs up to his chest, and the warmth is nice on his jeans. Now that he has a backrest, he can allow himself to relax without falling out of his seat. He huddles into his hoodie, shoving his hands in his pocket and sleeves.

His eyes grow heavier as David pulls the sweet buns out of the fire. He does kind of want one, but he also doesn't want to move. While he would usually complain about sitting on the ground outside, he was _really_ comfortable right now. David doesn't bother him, instead quietly plucking a roll off for himself and looking out over the lake with a fond smile.

The last thing he sees before he dozes off is David's head turning to him, saying something unintelligible before a giant, stupid, _beaming _grin plasters itself across the counselor's face.

_Stupid, happy idiot._ He thinks.

TTTTTTTT

Max awakens in almost complete darkness, panicked and reeling. He quickly sits up, and his head spins from the sudden movement. He frantically searches the room for something to latch onto through his disorientation, finally settling on the faint glow of moonlight through the bedside window. His breathing slows as his mind gradually gathers the situation.

Right, he was at camp, in Gwen's room. David must have carried him here after dinner. He lies back down, looking around the room for something to tell the time, but the only thing he can find is a dull reflection off of the plastic of the digital alarm clock beside him. Right, no power.

He lies there for a bit, the fact that he doesn't know the time bugging him an unusually large amount. He could have been sleeping for an hour, for four hours, for six hours. He probably won't be able to get back to sleep, regardless of how much time has passed.

After a long while of him just lying there and letting his mind wander anxiously, Max sits up again, slinging his comforter off of him and sliding off of the bed. He picks up his folded hoodie from the bedside table, cringing at the thick smell of smoke still clinging to it. Man, he really needs his laundry done, and a shower. How long has it even been since he had a nice shower? He felt gross, either way. At least they were going back to David's house tomorrow. Today. Whatever.

Damn it, he still didn't know what fucking time it was.

He forgoes the hoodie, squinting around the room to find his backpacks. After stumbling upon them beside his bed, he digs through for a change of clothes and a second, identical hoodie. He didn't really _like _wearing his backups, his original was nice and comfortable, but he figures the stale smoke smell would probably just give him a headache after a while.

After changing into new clothes, he opens his bedroom door as silently as possible, padding across the room to David's. He opens his door just a crack, checking to make sure the counselor was still asleep.

He watches for a bit, and David shifts just the slightest, but his breathing remains steady. Convinced David's asleep, Max creeps over to his bedside table, easily finding the pink phone attached to the solar battery. He grabs both, checking the time immediately to quell his unease.

2:47AM. He probably passed out at around 9:30 or so, woke up at around 2? Good, he got enough sleep to not feel like crap for the majority of the day, assuming he could snag a coffee sometime during the drive back. Unfortunately, he also notices that the phone's battery is only at a measly 30%. David must have forgotten to charge the solar thing yesterday, fuck.

He stuffs the phone and the connected charger into his pocket, sneaking out of the room and shutting the door behind him. Plopping down on the couch and turning the brightness down all the way, he figures he probably has an hour and a half of game time before the thing dies, then he can probably take a walk outside or something until David wakes up.

God, he was so excited to get back to civilization.


	9. Chapter 9

David lies in bed, still restless after the unexpected turn of events throughout the day. His eyes flicker to his phone. It was almost 2 AM, and he hadn't gotten a lick of sleep since he put Max to bed at 10. He knows he has to get a decent amount of sleep in order to drive and make a whole bunch of complicated phone calls that afternoon, but thinking about _that_ just made him more and more anxious- and that anxiety therefore leads to less sleep.

Vicious cycle.

It's worth it to mention, he didn't mind _physically_ making the phone calls or the paperwork in the slightest, no. Max was well worth the effort, the kid deserved to be happy, and if that meant David putting in the time and effort to make it so, then gosh darn it he would do it with an entire song and dance. No, the actual work wasn't the problem.

It was the fear of messing it all up.

David would be the first to say that he was great with kids. Most people would probably agree too, if his glowing teacher and counselor evaluations held any merit. He could teach in a clear and concise manner, ran large group activities effortlessly, and could even get some of the most… _unruly _kids to participate and warm up to him, Max included.

But _raising_ a child? Even disregarding all of the ways the actual paperwork and legal things could turn out, David, however positive he might seem to be, still wasn't sure he could do the best for Max. He knew that this would be a better household than what he came from, sure, but that wasn't something to phone home about. Heck, he wasn't even sure if Max _enjoyed _his company. There were times where he thought he was taking steps forward, where he thought he was helping and Max was opening up, but then there were also times where he thought he was taking ten steps backwards, and he was sure that instability wasn't something that would vanish in the coming days. Max was a complicated kid, with a complicated past, a past that David didn't even know a lot about beyond some vague assumptions.

He _thought_ he knew him, based on the months they'd spent together at Camp, but the Max that he saw back at his house, with his parents, proved different. David had to be careful with the boy, as he had no idea what words or actions might cause him to spiral back into the state that his father put him in, and that was the _last_ thing Max needed. If David could go the rest of his life without seeing him that scared, that panicked, he'd consider himself blessed, but the possibility of being the cause of that makes him incredibly nervous.

The best thing he could do was just take it one step at a time. First, he had to get Max into some proper schooling. It'll take some time to actually get him enrolled, but David could probably get permission to let him sit in on his classes while the paperwork was getting processed. The real debate was whether to come clean with everything that was going on with the boy, or if he should come up with some white lies to keep them from prying too much- then again, the lies he'd already come up with were far-fetched to begin with. It wouldn't take that much more to make the school suspicious.

In the middle of David's thoughts, he hears the faint rattle of his bedroom door behind him. He doesn't have to flip over to know it's Max. He shuts his eyes and steadies his breathing, relaxing into a more natural position on his side to feign sleep. He strains his ears, waiting for anything, a name, a question. What was he even doing up at this hour, anyways? It had to be past 2:30 in the morning, at this point.

He hears Max's footsteps softly slide against the hardwood floor, then hears his phone and charger gently taken from his nightstand. He frowns then, which, thank goodness he was facing away from the boy, but still, did he really come in just to steal his phone again? As much as he didn't like to stereotype this generation, he did silently complain about their apparent infatuation with technology.

Still, he let Max shuffle out of the room and close his door. As far as he knew, Max hasn't done much on it besides download a few games and surf the web. He checked his bank account and social media pages earlier that day, and they've both been left untouched, thank goodness.

David rolls onto his back and glances at his empty nightstand and then at the closed door, furrowing his brow in worry. Did Max normally not sleep well? Come to think of it, he was up earlier than David yesterday with his phone, too. These nights _have _been stressful, as evidenced by David's own insomnia, so he couldn't really blame him for not being able to sleep.

The kid also seemed to function better with a cup of coffee in the morning, but David didn't have any, here or at home. He didn't want to supplement a bad habit, but maybe he could pick up a small tin of the stuff Monday evening. Along with a coffee maker… and some filters… he'll take Max along, just to be sure. Should he move the shopping trip to Sunday? He didn't even think about how much food he had at home already, and it's probably not the type of stuff that fits Max's preferences.

David's lips press into a thin line, and he sits up, hovering on the edge of his bed for a little bit, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. Should he check on Max? Would that be appreciated, or would it just bother him? Would he open up, or push him away? Everything was a gamble, and David just didn't have a clue as to what the kid would respond well to.

The counselor stands and crosses the room, quietly fumbling around in his backpack to pull out a book he packed. It wasn't anything terribly interesting, a book of poetry his parents got him a long time ago, but it was an excuse to be up. Somewhat underhanded, but… gosh, he was so worried.

So, quietly, as to not scare the boy, David enters the living area.

TTTTTTTT

Max hears David's door click open, and isn't surprised when the man himself appears. His eyes draw back into the phone.

"David." He greets.

"Hey, Max." David walks over to the couch, taking a seat on the other side. "Couldn't sleep either?"

Max stares down David for a few seconds, contemplating his motives. Is he out here to scold him? Did he know he took his phone?

He decides to shrug. "Just wanted to know the time, no electricity for the alarm clock." He holds the phone and charger out to the counselor. "You can have it back, if you want."

David shakes his head, opening up his book and positioning it in the moonlight. "I'm good, I just came out for better lighting, is all."

Max pulls the phone back towards himself cautiously, turning it back on and reopening his own online book. The phone's only gone down around 5%, so he should have enough power to keep reading until the sun comes up. He settles further into the couch, resuming his page. He tries to continue reading, but just winds up skimming over the same paragraph again and again. He sighs, rolling his head back on the arm of the couch and staring at the ceiling.

"David, why are you really out here? You were asleep like, half an hour ago."

Max doesn't look at David, but the man hesitates anyways. He chuckles. "Can't fool you, Max. I was awake when you took my phone." A pause. "I- I was just concerned about you, is all. Should I… head back?"

Max huffs, half wanting David to go back in his room, but also _somewhat_ enjoying the company. "No, it's fine. I'm fine, too. Just couldn't sleep."

_Like a stupid kid._

"Can you usually not sleep?" David asks.

"I get enough sleep." _That doesn't answer his question, dumbass._

"You're dodging the question." _Yep, figures._

"Jesus- fine, no, okay? I don't get… a lot of sleep, but it doesn't matter." _Just please drop it._

"Max, that isn't good for you, I-"

Max's head snaps up and he raises his voice, causing David to jump. "It _doesn't_ matter, David. Stop treating me like a fucking kid, I'm _fine_." Shit, he was getting worked up.

David closes his book, looking tense. In a voice _much_ too soft for Max's liking, he says "I just want to make sure you're... okay, after everything."

Really? Alright, that's it, screw being calm. "David, just _fucking_ stop, okay?"

This is the time when David gets it through his thick head. "You're acting weird- you're acting _crazy_ weird, and I- I hate it! All today you've been talking to me in this stupid, small voice and giving me weird stares, thinking that I'm going to- to _break_ or some shit because you say the wrong thing!"

Max sits up, suddenly using the increased lung capacity to yell. "I'm not some _fragile _little kid that's going to have a goddamn _mental breakdown_ because you mention my parents or because you say something _marginally _upsetting, okay? I've been through worse- that, that _thing_ that I did at my parent's house wasn't normal, wasn't- wasn't a regular thing."

He takes a moment to breathe. "I'm _fine,_ David. I'm still exactly the same fucking kid that steals your phone out from under your nose, blackmails entire organizations, sent Campbell to jail, and runs your entire _**goddamned shitty summer camp!**_"

David blinks, taken aback by the rant, but relaxes some. He smiles that stupid, fucking smile, and then shakes his head, almost condescendingly.

Jesus Christ, Max is going to _fucking explode- _

David, sensing this, holds the poetry book up like a shield. "Wait, Max- I _promise_ that I don't think you're fragile. Everything you said is absolutely right!"

Max visibly calms, listening as David continues. "You're more than some kid with a troubled home life, and even though I might have been… a bit nervous around you, I _do _know that you're still the same Max that I spent the summer with." David lowers the book, setting it beside them on the coffee table. "That incident at your house doesn't change the way I see you in the slightest, even if you don't believe me."

David's smile evolves into one of genuine pride. "In fact, I think you're probably one of the strongest, smartest, most resourceful kiddos I've _ever_ known. I just… I was worried, mostly about myself. The last thing I want to do is be an obstacle for you, like your parents are. I want to be supportive, I want to help you, I want to be there for you, but acting like you're someone that needs to be handled with care, or in some sort of new, special way, isn't the right way to do it. In fact, that would probably make me pretty mad, too." He laughs.

"I promise, Max, that I'll do my best to not treat you any differently. It was wrong of me, and... I'm sorry. I hope that you can forgive me."

Max begins to cool off, fidgeting as he thinks about what David said. For some reason, the things he was saying made him… uncomfortable. Vulnerable, ironically. He couldn't tell anyone why that was.

He couldn't tell _himself_ why.

After a short silence, he groans and ruffles his own hair.

"David, I- you're _fine. I'm_ fine! There's no way in hell that you could _ever_ be anything _close_ to how shitty they are." He lowers his voice some. "The whole fact that I'm here with you fucking _proves_ that." He pauses for a little bit, and David lets him fidget and think.

"Besides, your annoying, happy-go-lucky attitude is like, the exact opposite of my parents. I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible for you to be an asshole like they were. Yeah, I was annoyed that you were treating me like a baby, but… thanks, I guess. For caring."

David sniffles, and Max glances over to him, noticing that the man's getting teary-eyed. The counselor opens up his arms, moving in for a hug, and Max almost falls off of the arm of the couch trying to back away from the affection.

"Hey, HEY! No hugs! Personal space, camp man, I'm _warning_ you!"

David backs off, clasping his hands together and nodding, but he still has that stupid grin on his face. Max relaxes, sitting back down on the couch properly.

"Don't- it doesn't mean that I_ like _it here or anything, so don't get your hopes up." His eyes flicker over for a split second. "And stop crying, David. You're like 25, it's gross."

David wipes his eyes, nodding again. "I can go back to my room, Max, if you want to keep playing games out here. You'll have plenty of time to sleep in the car, so don't worry too much about it."

Max rubs the back of his neck. "I, um… actually... think I'm gonna go to sleep. Here." Max holds David's phone and charger out to him, and the counselor gently takes them. "I… don't think I'll need this anymore. Thanks, though."

Max jumps off the couch, wandering to his room. Shortly before reaching the doorway, David speaks in a soft, tired voice.

"Goodnight, Max." He says. "Sweet dreams."

Max hesitates, opening his bedroom door and stepping in before turning around to face David.

"I- yeah. You too, David. Goodnight."

He quietly shuts the door, pulling off his hoodie and crawling in bed. It takes him a little bit, but eventually, after hearing David enter his own bedroom, Max manages to get a few extra hours of sleep that night.

It's not quite 8, but it'll do.


End file.
